


Breaking The Ice

by orphan_account



Series: It's A Good Thing We're Pretty... [3]
Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year and a half. Who makes someone wait that long?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking The Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Original author's note from February 13, 2012: These two... they crawl into my brain and refuse to leave me alone until I write them. When I first started writing fic, if you’d told me that not only would I write multiple stories with these two, I’d actually enjoy writing them, I’d have laughed and called you crazy. This is somewhat of a part three to "The Man-Date" and "Burgers and Vicodin".

I let myself in the house when no one answers the door after I’ve rang the bell for what feels like an eternity. Rather than putting the key back under the ceramic frog, because really, _who do you think you’re fooling with that thing?_ , I slip it in my pocket, shut the door behind me, and quickly reset the alarm. Much like the frog isn’t fooling anyone, his alarm code is his birthday. I shake my head and wonder how it is that no one’s ever broken into his house before. Then I remember how someone walked in his gate and stole one of his cars, and I really have to consider the intelligence of hiding your house key under a damn frog that looks completely out of place in front of a mansion.

I head straight for the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and start to walk out back to the basketball court, figuring he got bored waiting on me and decided to take a few shots by himself. I step outside, and I don’t hear anything. A quick glance at the court tells me he’s not there. Odd.

I go back inside the house and look around the downstairs area. No trace of Denny anywhere. I start upstairs, and I can hear the sound of rap getting louder with each step I take. When I get upstairs, I follow the music to the gym, and finally, that’s where I find Denny, laying in the middle of the floor, soaked in sweat.

“Hey man, thought we were playing ball,” I say, walking over to him. He doesn’t answer, and when I look down, I notice he’s glassy-eyed. He looks up at me, but his eyes don’t really focus on me. I sit down beside him, reach over and shake his arm gently.

“Hey... Hamlin... you okay?”

He nods his head, but the glassy eyes and blank look tell me he’s anything but. I reach behind him, lift him up just a bit, and hold my bottle of water to his lips. He opens his mouth, barely, and I have to work to keep him upright enough that I don’t end up pouring water down his throat. I prop my leg behind him to make sure he stays up, and after I force half the bottle of water into him, the glassy eyes clear a little, and he blinks and looks at me, obviously confused.

“Kahne? What are you doing here?” He looks around the room, and I can tell from the way he’s taking it all in, he has no idea how he ended up on the floor of his gym.

“We were supposed to play ball. Better question is, what are you doing laying here on the floor?” I try to keep the concern out of my voice, but really, who wouldn’t be concerned if they found someone on the floor, obviously out of it?

He looks around again, and shakes his head. “I’m... not quite sure. I was working out... and... I remember...” he squeezes his eyes shut, and I sigh. “I was running. I remember that. And then... then you were here.” He sits up fully, on his own, and I cross my legs and stare at him silently.

“What?” he asks, snatching the bottle of water out of my hand and finishing the rest of it in one gulp.

“Um... nothing.” I watch as he crushes the empty bottle and throws it across the room towards a wastebasket. “Just... you were pretty out of it,” I add softly.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. Gotta keep after it if I intend to drop that 6 percent of body fat before the season starts.” He gets up from the floor, leaving me sitting there feeling bewildered, and jumps back on the treadmill.

“I thought you were trying to lose 3 percent,” I say, watching as he runs the speed and the incline up and the front of the treadmill gets impossibly high for the speed he’s got it going. He manages to keep up, though. I grab one of his exercise balls and take a seat on it, and watch.

“I was...” he huffs, as he jacks the speed up even more. “But another 3 percent on top of that sounds good now.”

I shake my head as I watch him, wondering how he can keep going at that pace for any length of time, but somehow, he does it. The thing is, he doesn’t really have another 3 percent to lose. Hell, I don’t know where he found the first 3 percent to lose, and I’ve seen... well, I’ve definitely seen enough of him to know there’s no body fat left to lose. There’s nothing but angles and muscles and gorgeous tanned skin...

I feel my face start to grow warm, and I know I’m blushing as my thoughts drift to the master suite down the hall. There’s definitely not any room for improvement on the perfection that is Denny Hamlin naked. I shake my head, try to shake away those thoughts, as I hear him start to pant. Not that the sound makes it any easier to stop thinking about that bed with black sheets that’s just mere yards away... as the panting gets louder, I look over at him, concerned.

“Um, have you even bothered to check your heart rate?” I ask, using my feet to roll my makeshift seat closer to the treadmill. He clamps his hands down on the monitor handles, and the machine beeps as it reads his heart rate.

“Yep. Steady at 190, just like earlier,” he grunts out between what sounds like gasps for air.

I raise an eyebrow, stand up and shove the ball back across the room, and walk over beside the treadmill, watching as his heart rate moves from 190 to 194. “Steady? Um... maybe you should lower the incline a bit. Or the speed.” What I really want to scream at him is, _are you fucking trying to kill yourself? You can’t work out at your max level for that long!_ But I don’t, because I know it won’t do any good. More than likely, he’d roll his eyes, call me a pussy, and increase the speed even more.

He shakes his head, and keeps on running. “Just 10 more minutes.”

I sigh to myself, grab the ball, and sit back down on it. There’s obviously no talking him out of this craziness, so I’ll just sit here and hope he doesn’t faint or die.

Finally, after 10 long minutes of watching him and hoping I’m not going to be calling an ambulance, he hits the stop button, turns around, and sits down on the end of the treadmill.

“So... I guess that’s a rain check on the basketball?” I ask jokingly, and he shakes his head.

“Give me a couple minutes. And another bottle of water, too.” I stare at him wide-eyed, wondering why the hell he thinks playing ball now is a good idea. If it were me, I’d want a shower and a nap. Actually, just watching him has made me want a shower and a nap.

“Um... Kahne?” he says, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Yeah? Sorry.”

“Another bottle of water. Do I have to beg for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you one.” I head downstairs and grab another two bottles from the fridge. I’ve already made up my mind I’m going to talk my way out of this basketball game, and when I get back to the gym and find him laying on the treadmill, that cements it. I hand him the bottle of water, then open my own and take a drink.

“So... I was thinking--”

He cuts me off with a laugh. “You? Thinking? Did hell freeze over?”

I flip him off and continue. “Maybe instead of playing ball, we could just hang out. Watch a movie or something. You know, after you take a shower,” I add, wrinkling up my nose.

He sits up, and returns my one-fingered salute. “You gonna help wash my back?” he smirks, and he gets exactly what he wants-- my face turns bright red. “I can’t tell if that a yes or a no, Kahne.”

“Um... uh... I... uh....” I stutter, my face getting redder, the color creeping down my neck, and he gives me that slow, sexy grin that I hate to admit makes me a little weak in the knees.

“Oh... I think that’s a yes, then. I bet you’re red all the way down to your shorts,” he leers at me, leaning closer.

I back up so fast that I actually fall backwards off of the ball, and he hoots with laughter.

“Kahne, you’re a mess,” he manages to get out between laughs.

“Yeah, well... you make me one,” I mutter, not even realizing I’ve said it out loud until his eyes widen.

“Well, that may just be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he chuckles softly, as he stands and then leans down, grabs my hand, and pulls me up from the floor like I’m a five pound sack of potatoes, instead of a grown man. His hand lingers on mine just a bit longer than necessary, then he lets go and runs the hand through his sweaty hair, making it stick up in fifty different directions. It’s... a very good look on him.

He heads down the hall, towards the master suite, and I follow because what else am I going to do? When he gets to the bedroom, he pulls off his shirt and toes off his shoes, and I’m reminded of that night after the Bobcats game... except there’s daylight streaming through the curtains, and it shows off just how tanned he is right now. He starts to push his pants down, and I’m pretty sure I squeak.

“I’ll uh.... I’ll be downstairs,” I say, and practically run from the room. I can hear him laughing as I hustle down to the living room. I sit down on the couch, put a throw pillow to my face, and scream into it. What the hell am I doing? It was just a one time thing, right? He and Jordan have gotten back together and broken up and gotten back together at least three times since then. I put the pillow back down and sigh. And yeah, he came over and stayed with me after my knee surgery, but... nothing happened. Not really. Obviously I read a lot more into it all than was actually there.

_You do these things, Kase. You always think there’s more to it than there actually is. Why do you keep doing that? All it does is end up with you red-faced, stammering, and swallowing what’s left of your pride. Maybe you should just give up. Maybe you’re just meant to watch porn and jack off, and that’s it._

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupts my little talk with myself, and I look up to see Denny drinking another bottle of water, in nothing but a fluffy white towel. A fluffy white towel that’s so low on his hips I can see his happy trail and the chiseled V of his hip bones. _Shit. WHY did I have to read so much into that one night?_

He finishes the bottle of water, and smirks. “See something you like?”

My face feels like it’s on fire, and when he chuckles, I realize I’m still staring at the soft trail of hair disappearing down under the towel. His hand moves to rest on the knot in the towel, and I’m mesmerized. Also, embarrassed as hell to be staring like most guys would stare at the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of me.

“You didn’t answer me, Kahne,” he says, moving a little bit closer to the couch.

I try. I try to answer, but all that comes out is gibberish, and that makes me blush even more. Apparently my embarrassment is amusing, because he chuckles again. “Were you serious about not playing ball? I thought I’d come check before I got dressed.”

I nod, bobblehead style. “Yeah, let’s just chill. We uh, haven’t done that in a while.”

He laughs, again. It’s actually starting to get annoying. “Okay then,” he says, and turns to head back to the stairs. Just as he steps onto the bottom one, the towel falls. He says nothing, but I know it wasn’t an accident. I tell myself to look away, but my eyes refuse to cooperate with my brain. The smallest little gasp escapes me, and I know I hear him chuckle as he climbs the stairs.

 _He’s teasing me._ The thought occurs to me, and then a second one follows. _I should follow him._ I shake my head. No. I can’t. But maybe he _wants_ me to follow him.

I’m still debating with myself when he comes back downstairs in a black Nike t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He sits down next to me on the couch, and grabs the TV remote.

“So... what were you thinking? TV? A movie? Me whipping your ass at Madden?” he grins, and I shrug.

“It’s your house. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

He flips through the guide before leaving it on a CSI marathon. He looks over at me and raises an eyebrow. I shrug in response. “Like I said, whatever you want is fine with me.” He smirks and gives me that grin again, the one that makes me feel like a 14-year-old girl with her first crush.

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to offer, Kahne...” The wicked glint in his eyes makes me shiver a bit, which is apparently funny to him. He chuckles as he leans in, right next to my ear, and whispers, “So... whatever I want? I can think of lots of things I want... and probably a few that you want, too.”

I can’t help it... him being that close makes me jumpy. I try to move away just a bit, and he grabs my arm, and holds me still as he continues to whisper. “Come on now... I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do...” and he places a gentle kiss just below my ear.

That’s the problem though. There’s a lot of stuff I want him to do. And that kiss is a pretty decent start on all of it. But I don’t know if I can handle another amazing night, and then nothing for another year and a half. Well, not exactly nothing. We’ve talked. We’ve hung out, even. But it’s like that night never happened, aside from his visiting me after my knee surgery, and it’s possible I was so high from the painkillers that I imagined that.

He senses my hesitation, I guess, because he pulls away a little, lets go of my arm, and looks at me. “What’s wrong? I thought... you were okay with this.” He looks almost hurt that I’m not playing along, and that wasn’t my intention.

“I... I am. I think I am. But I...” _I really don’t know how to say it without sounding like a girl, so I wish you wouldn’t make me,_ I think to myself.

“But you... what? Have a headache?” he laughs, and I chuckle with him. I decide to go with the truth.

“No, I just don’t think I can handle another year and a half of awkwardness.” Shock registers on his face.

“I didn’t realize it was that awkward.”

“Um, you mentally undressing me every time we bumped into each other in the garage was pretty awkward,” I stutter, turning redder with each word.

“Funny. I thought you were the one picturing me naked every time we saw each other,” he smirks, leaning into me again. “Would it have been less awkward if I’d just undressed you for real?”

“I... um... I....” Oh yeah, I’m floundering here, but at least I’m not scooting away from him.

“Well, that’s progress,” he whispers, as he kisses my neck. “At least you’re not running away from me now.”

 _Be brave, Kahne. Be brave. Go get what you want,_ I think to myself, as I turn my head just slightly, my lips now desperately close to his. I’m hoping that if I just hold still, he’ll take the hint.

That challenging glimmer in his eyes tells me otherwise.

He looks down at my lips, and smirks. “Something you want, Kahne?” He doesn’t move, not even a millimeter. The gauntlet’s been thrown down; if I want this, I have to be the one to take it.

I move, slowly, and press my lips against his. I’m so nervous my whole body is shaking, and then I feel his lips move against mine. You would think that would ease the nervousness, but it doesn’t. As he starts to kiss me back, I wrap a shaking hand around the back of his neck. He deepens the kiss, and even though I like it, even though I’m kissing him back with everything I’m worth, my damn body won’t quit shaking. He pulls away and smiles-- actually smiles, not a smirk, not an lascivious grin, but a real smile.

“Relax, Kahne,” he says, still smiling, and I smile too, remembering he had to tell me that the first time, too.

“I’m trying, but you make it hard.”

He snorts and looks down unapologetically at my crotch. “Making it hard is kinda the whole idea.” We both laugh at that.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, though. This goes as far as you want it to... or it doesn’t go any further than you want it to. Promise,” he says, smiling.

“What if I’m not completely sure?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I’m sure. Maybe I just want to see what his answer will be.

He leans in and kisses me again, gently. “Then we’ll figure it out as we go. For now, we could just watch TV, if you want.”

I nod. “TV sounds good.” I lean back against the couch and he does the same, but he also scoots over just a bit, so that our shoulders are touching. At first, I’m hyper-aware of his deltoid pressed against mine, but after a while, it starts to feel almost comforting to have him that close, and I do actually relax and focus on the TV.

In fact, I get so into this particular episode of CSI that at first I don’t notice that Denny’s hand has made its way to my knee. What can I say? It’s a really good episode. By the commercial break, his hand has moved up to my thigh, and as I turn to ask him if he has any beer, out of the corner of my eye, I notice his hand creeping up higher. I gasp softly, and he chuckles.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” he grins, and starts to rub his fingers in soft circles. And he’s right... I don’t have any objections, but... I am just a tiny bit surprised. Again, after a year and a half of nothing, this is a little unexpected. Not bad, just... different.

“No... I don’t mind,” I whisper, looking down at his hand, watching as it edges its way upward and inward. I try to tell myself to relax, and I almost have, until his open palm rubs against the front of my pants. I can’t stop myself from moaning softly, and I can’t help the reflexive jump that comes from the contact. He chuckles, but doesn’t stop rubbing. Instead he leans in and whispers, “You can say stop at any time... but I don’t really think you will.”

And he’s right. I won’t. And I tell him as much.

He carefully lays me down on the couch, lays on top of me, and kisses me gently. I return the kiss, hesitantly at first. I’m sure it’s amusing to him, but this time he takes pity on me and doesn’t laugh. I close my eyes and just enjoy the feel of his lips pressing against mine, moving glacially slow against them, treating this like it’s our first kiss, and at this point, it’s been so long since his lips touched mine that it might as well be.

I let my tongue sneak out from between my lips, seek out his, run the tip of it over his bottom lip, and that’s all it takes to let him know I’m definitely interested. He presses down against me, snakes his tongue into my mouth, and explores every inch of it, running his tongue along the back of my teeth before pressing his tongue against mine, initiating a dance between the two that turns from delicate and soft to hard and passionate in only a few moments time.

As our tongues battle for dominance, he rocks his hips against mine, and I can feel just how hard he’s gotten, just from kissing me. I moan into the kiss and press back up against him, letting him know the feeling’s mutual. Apparently that’s the green light he’s looking for, because he leans up and sits back on my legs, then pulls me up so that I’m half-sitting. I cock my head to the side in confusion, and he just smirks, grabs the hem of my t-shirt, and tugs it over my head.

“Well that’s unfair,” I laugh, giving him a pout. “You’ve still got yours on.”

No sooner than I finish the sentence he reaches down and pulls his own shirt off, tossing it to the floor. He leans over me, splays a hand against my chest, and presses me back down into the couch. “Better now?” he asks, but before I can answer, he shoves his tongue back in my mouth, kissing me with every fiber of his being.

And yes, it’s better now. Everything’s better now as I feel his hand slide across my chest, one long finger tracing its way around a nipple. I gasp, as much as one can gasp when someone else has their tongue in your mouth. I wrap one hand around the back of the couch, and the other around the back of his head, and tug at the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck. He grinds his hips against me wildly, and in my mind I flash back to just what the cock that’s pressed up against me looks like, what it feels like inside of me.

Any reservations I had about this encounter fly right out the window, and I slide my hand down his back, letting my nails trace a path along his spine. He pulls away from the kiss and groans, then nips my bottom lip. To pay him back, I grab his ass and pull him closer, grinding up against him.

“Shhhhhhhiiiiittttttt, Kahne!” he cries out driving his hips down against mine. “You trying to make me fucking come in my shorts?”

Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Maybe you should take them off then, Hamlin. That way we don’t have to do laundry later.” He grinds against me again, probably to remind me what I’ll be missing in just a few seconds.

He disentangles my arms and legs from his body, and stands up beside the couch. “You really want to take it that far, Kahne? We’re fast approaching that point of no return...” He’s got that teasing glint in his eyes again, daring me to give in, or give up.

I choose to give in. Giving in feels so much better than giving up.

“I’m all in,” I say, a little louder than necessary, and his shorts drop to the floor. Things are every bit as impressive as I remember them being. He turns around and starts across the room to the stairs, and I’m left staring after him in appreciation because I swear, his ass looks even better than the last time I saw it. His skin is darker, his muscles are more toned... I’m still sitting on the couch, staring, as he starts up the stairs.

He pauses halfway up and looks back over his shoulder. “Jesus, Kahne... I know it’s a good show, but you don’t have to drool.” My face gets red... the redness spreads down my chest... all the way to my shorts. Denny laughs and motions for me to come on. “I bet your cock’s even blushing.”

I shake myself out of my reverie, and sprint across the room and up the stairs behind him. “I suppose you’ll get to see for yourself, if you play your cards right,” I joke, still eyeing his ass as we enter his bedroom. Things are exactly like I remember them. Same bedspread, same furniture... the only thing missing is the victory lane picture of him and Jordan on the nightstand.

“So... have I played my cards right, yet?” he asks, eyeing up my shorts. “Because I really would like to know if you’re red _all over_ right now,” he smirks, licking his lips. I nod slowly, completely focused on the path his tongue makes as it licks along his bottom lip, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He smirks even more. “Then take ‘em off.” I reach down and start to push my shorts down, and he stops me. “Uh-uh, boxers too, Kahne.”

Every square inch of me is definitely red now as I reach back to my waist and slowly push my boxers down over my slim hips and growing erection.

“Mmmmmmm,” he moans in appreciation. “I’d almost forgotten what a beautiful sight that is... almost.” He crooks his finger at me, motioning me to come closer, and it takes every bit of self-control I have to not sprint across the room to him. I stop just out of his reach, and he shakes his head in disapproval. “Closer.” I move the last few inches in, so that we’re touching, chest-to-chest, his cock bobbing against my stomach. I shudder almost imperceptibly at the contact, but he notices, and nods slowly. “It’s been way too long,” he says quietly as he wraps a hand around me, sliding it up and down my back. “I should’ve never waited this long.”

I gasp as his hand drops and gives my ass a playful squeeze. “No... you shouldn’t have,” I whisper, working up the courage to look up into his eyes. “I was... so confused. And every time I saw you, and you acted like things were... normal, that confusion got worse. I’m not even sure what’s going on here, I---” He doesn’t let me finish my thought. His mouth is on mine, tongue licking at my lips, urging me to open up. I do, and whatever I was going to say disappears from my mind as he explores my mouth with his tongue while slowly backing us to the bed. We fall in a heap, and I find myself on top of him, pressed against him like I’m scared he’s going to disappear. Maybe I’m a little worried he will, because for the past year, he always has.

He chuckles and rolls us, reestablishing his dominance. “I’m not going anywhere, Kahne,” he growls, eyes flashing as he starts to kiss his way down my chest.

“It looks like you are,” I joke, a moan escaping from my lips as he flicks his tongue against a nipple. He teases it into a peak, nips it gently with his teeth, and repeats the process with the other one, eliciting little gasps and cries of pleasure. I feel my cock getting harder, my hips start to rock on their own volition. Just when I’m starting to think it might be possible to come just from the attention he’s giving my nipples, he looks up and smirks.

“Don’t worry; you’ll like where I’m going.” He trails his tongue down the center of my chest, eyes locked on mine, silently daring me to make any more smart remarks. His tongue circles around my belly button, then dips in. I wonder briefly if this at all resembles what it looks like when he goes down on a girl, but before I can truly ponder that, his lips wrap around the head of my cock and my hips come up off of the bed.

“SHIT! HAMLIN!” I gasp, my hand clawing at the comforter so that I’m not clawing a hole in his skin.

He chuckles, and the vibration from it feels so, so good.

Screw it. I may very well claw a hole in his skin. I rest my hand on the back of his head, run my fingers through his hair as he takes more of me in his mouth, sucking and gently running his teeth along my length. No matter how many times I tried, no matter how good my imagination might be, all the times that I’ve played this out in my head can’t compare to this. The best parts of being with him, the part that no memory can accurately capture, they’re all here. The texture of his hair between my fingers as I tug it gently, the feel of his skin against mine, the warm wet softness of his mouth, the soft sucking sound he makes as he takes me deeper, the muffled moans as the head of my cock bumps against his throat... those are the things I couldn’t recreate, and now that I have them, it’s driving me crazy.

“Fuck... Ham... Denny... I’m gonna come...” I’m not even sure why I warn him, but he obviously doesn’t mind. He takes me as deep as he can, as he reaches and tugs my balls gently. I lose it, groaning his name over and over as I come, and he surprises me by drinking it all down greedily, sucking and slurping noisily until he’s milked me dry. He looks up at me, devilish look in his eyes, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then licks it clean.

I moan softly, amazed that he’s not let a single drop go to waste.

“Was that worth the wait?” he grins, and I try to play it cool, but it’s impossible.

“Yeah, as long as I don’t have to wait another year and a half for the next one.”

He shakes his head, rolls over on his back, and pulls me onto his chest, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “No, I won’t make you wait that long again,” he whispers.

“Because you don’t want to be mean and make me wait, or because you can’t stand it yourself?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I slide my hand down his body and wrap my hand around the base of his cock. He moans silently, his mouth falling open in a perfect O-shape. “Little bit of both?” I whisper, as I start to stroke him oh-so-slowly.

“Yessssss,” he hisses, placing another kiss on my forehead.

“Good. If it’s mutual, it pretty much guarantees you won’t keep me waiting again.” I smile at him as I crawl down his body, stopping when I’m eye-level with cock. I look up at him, suddenly feeling a little unsure about this. He must sense my hesitation, because he looks down and gently cups his hand around my cheek.

“Trust me, Kahne. Anything you do, you can’t go wrong. The fact that you’re doing it at all is a huge fucking turn-on.”

I hesitantly flick my tongue against his tip, licking at the precum collecting there, and he moans loudly. Encouraged, I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it like I would with an ice cream cone. He moans even louder.

“Yeah... just like that... so good...” his hand slips from my cheek, onto the bed. His other hand reaches behind him, curls onto the headboard, and grips it for dear life. I chuckle softly, simultaneously amused and amazed that I can do that to him. I take a little more of him in my mouth, sliding my tongue against the underside of his cock, tracing the vein there. He thrusts shallowly into my mouth, and it catches me off guard. I choke just a bit, and he pulls back, looking at me with concern. “You okay?”

I give him a thumbs up, and gently scrape my teeth along his length as I take him deeper. His hips start to move, and I do my best to bob my head in time and keep up. I know there’s no way I can take all of him, so I do the next best thing. I wrap my fist around the base of his cock, moving it and squeezing it as I suck him, doing my best to make it feel like I’m taking all of him in. He starts to thrust faster, little moans and grunts growing louder as he gets closer and closer. His whole body stiffens under me, and he grunts my name as hot come spurts into my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, try not to cough, but some of it dribbles down my chin anyway. I start to wipe it away, but Denny grabs my arm and yanks me up the bed to him. Before I can even ask, he places his mouth on my chin and sucks gently, his tongue fluttering against my skin. When he pulls away, he grins.

“Was that... okay?” I ask, uncertainly. I mean, yeah, I know it did the job-- he just licked the last of the evidence clean. But I’m concerned it could’ve been better. He shakes his head, and I feel like someone has reached inside my chest and crushed my heart. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I look down, afraid to meet his eyes, and he gently lifts my chin and gives me a gentle, very chaste kiss.

“That was much, much better than okay. It was your first time?” he whispers, and I nod, blushing.

“There’s nothing to blush about. If I’d been able to make someone come that quickly and that hard the first time I sucked cock...” he trails off, laughing, and I smile back. He pulls me close, and wraps both arms around me. He’s quiet for a while, gently rubbing my back with the palm of his hand, lulling me into a state of absolute relaxation.

“Kase?” he asks quietly, probably checking to see if I’m still awake.

“Hmm?” I mumble back, not even wanting use the energy it would take to open my mouth and speak a real word.

“I’m glad we didn’t play ball today,” he whispers.


End file.
